


Crush

by Homoexorcism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A really terrible wingman, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Arizona - Freeform, Awkward first dates, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Internalized Homophobia, Keith (Voltron) in Denial, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Lance (Voltron), Shiro is a Wingman, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), diner, keith is just doing his best, lance is a fraternity president
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 01:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homoexorcism/pseuds/Homoexorcism
Summary: In hindsight, there were probably better ways to handle being hit on by an attractive, but incredibly drunk, stranger.For example, flirting back.Instead, Keith had grabbed a half-empty, but completely melted, chocolate milkshake from a nearby table and tossed it into Lance’s still grinning face.





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Klance fic birthed from Tessa Violet's song Crush and a week of sleep deprivation.

  
Keith’s Pavlovian response to whenever college senior and fraternity president, Lance McClain, walked into the 24/7 Skyline Diner was to roll mauve eyes towards the heaven above and heave a heavy sigh of discontent.   
  
Tonight wasn’t an exception.   
  
“Lance _fuckin_ ’ McClain” Keith grumbled under his breath for the second time that night as he angrily wiped down the bar top in concentric circles.   
  
The object of Keith’s annoyance had strolled into the diner a little past eleven and made a beeline for a booth towards the back that was next to a window. He’d sat beneath a neon ‘Coca-Cola’ sign that bathed him in a glow of crimson and made him a sharp contrast against the desert night beyond the window.   
  
From the moment Lance found his seat, he’d been working on a sticker covered laptop. On _what_ , Keith wasn’t sure but he’d watch the other student roll his jaw and knit his brows in concentration enough times to predict when his fingers would fly over the keyboard. Occasionally, he’d chew on his bottom lip or pause long enough to suck down his first, but certainly not last, chocolate milkshake of the night.   
  
His existence was frustrating.   
  
Even more frustrating than Lance’s general existence was that Lance was conventionally attractive. He had vexingly long eyelashes that framed irises that seemed to ooze like honey under the sunlight. His complexion was flawless enough to make a model weep with envy and he’d been blessed with the type of unholy genetics that Keith drank in like water.   
  
He was downright _nauseating._   
  
“He’s not that bad.” Keith’s friend and roommate, Shiro, offered from the opposite side of the bar with a glib smirk. While the man hadn’t worked at the diner for nearly a year now, it didn’t stop Shiro from showing up for a chat and a quick bite to eat.   
  
As Shiro popped a ketchup soaked french-fry into his mouth, he spoke, “Arrogant, maybe. Persistent, definitely, but you like stubborn, so what’s the issue?”   
  
Keith shot Shiro a disbelieving look, nose scrunching up like a rabbit’s at the apparent betrayal, “Persistent is one way of putting it.”   
  
Keith’s dislike for Lance had begun shortly after Keith had been hired at Skyline Diner almost two years ago.  
  
After years of being put through the wringer that was the foster care system, Keith had made the bold decision to move out of his foster parent’s house the moment he’d turn eighteen. It was a decision that led him across the state of Arizona to Bisbee where he reconnected with a former foster sibling, Shiro.   
  
Caught in the trenches between childhood and adulthood, Keith had struggled to keep his head above water during those formative years. Thankfully, he had Shiro at his side who not only offered him a place to lay his head at night but he’d been the once to convince his boss, Allura, to hire him in the first place.  She’d been skeptical at first  but Keith worked hard and rarely passed up opportunities to take on extra shifts.   
  
The Skyline Diner itself was modestly sized and nestled on the outskirts of the cozy Arizona town with a mountain ridge as it’s illustrious backdrop. During the town’s on-season, the diner became a hot spot for tourists due to its classic 50s decor and its seat at the bottom of a mountain trail that boasted optimal stargazing scenery. For the other part of the year, the diner came alive with teenagers and college students alike with the occasional out of state traveler and longtime regular sprinkled in.   
  
On the night they’d met, Lance had just been another drunk fraternity douchebag.   
  
Back then, Keith had been a college freshmen and while he’d seen the then sophomore around campus, most notably on the track or in the gym, they’d never spoke. In fact, their social circles were on opposite sides of the universe.   
  
As such, Keith hadn’t thought much of it when Lance and a few of his fraternity brothers decided to take up two booths in his section after a late night of drinking. The group had been predictably rowdy as they chatted animatedly about the party they’d just come back from and discussed their plans for the following night.  
  
It wasn’t until Keith approached the table did he realize he wasn’t in for a typical night as the first thing a much too loud and drunk Lance blurted out was,  
  
                        _“Holy shit, you’re too beautiful to be a dude,_ dude _.”_  
  
It had been slurred around a heavy Cuban accent and set to the tune of laughter from his table mates.   
  
For Keith, the moment had been both pivotal and humiliating. Lance wasn’t the first person to associate him with femininity. Keith was petite in stature, athletic and lithe, sure, but still small. The kind of small that had put a target on his back combined with the genetics that favored his mother more than his father. Toss in a muddied sense of sexuality contrived from never having the ability to be safe or secure long enough to venture out of the closet, and you had a hot-headed Keith with pent up internalized homophobia.   
  
And here was Lance _fuckin’_ McClain hitting on him.   
  
In hindsight, there were probably better ways to handle being hit on by an attractive, but incredibly drunk, stranger.  
  
For example, flirting back.  
  
Instead, Keith had grabbed a half-empty, but completely melted, chocolate milkshake from a nearby table and tossed it into Lance’s grinning face.   
  
Thankfully, Shiro had still been working at the diner at the time and not only diffused the situation before Keith could stack the odds against himself in a brawl against seven other guys, but he’d also saved his ass from being fired.  
  
Keith believed a milkshake to the face sent the right kind of message but, as Keith quickly learned, Lance was a glutton for punishment.   
  
Not only did a sober Lance show up the following day with a sheepish apology that fell on deaf ears but he made the diner his unofficial hang out spot.  
  
At first, Keith wasn’t phased. It was a small town, after all, and Lance was usually accompanied with a few friends or even the occasional girl who hung on his every word as if his occasional ‘dude’ was prophetic.   
  
But then, Lance started showing up by himself. By that time, he’d learned what section Keith worked in and made a pointed effort to sit in it. As if that wasn’t aggravating enough, Lance started striking up one-sided conversations.   
  
In fact, all he did was talk.   
  
He was arrogantly self-assured and exuded an unwavering sense of confidence that made him sound interesting, even when he wasn’t saything of substance.   
  
Not that Keith found him interesting. Quite the opposite, in fact.   
  
When attempted conversations failed to penetrate the icy exterior that surrounded Keith, Lance upgraded to more drastic measures of attention seeking, like asking him out.  
  
Stubborn to his core, Keith always rejected him.  
  
Truth be told, the _real_ issue Keith had with Lance was that Lance flirted with everyone and if anyone was a textbook definition of trust issues, it was Keith.   
  
He was wary of people, to say the least. He felt he’d been betrayed since conception and his accumulative life experiences hadn’t done much to dissuade his unease around other people. The people Keith trusted included Shiro, who’d earned his trust after years of maintaining contact with each other despite the foster care system’s best attempts at keeping them apart, and then Pidge, who’d been his first real friend since starting college.    
  
As for Lance, Keith had a difficult time believing he could trust someone who flirted with anything that breathed. If sex was the goal, Keith certainly didn’t want to be reduced to some bedroom conquest by a guy who probably mistook his asocial disposition as “playing hard to get”.  
  
If sex wasn’t the goal, he doubted the two had enough in common to be friends, let alone boyfriends. Lance was outgoing to the point of being a president of a _fraternity_ whereas Keith once had a panic attack in a _Walmart_ because he was overstimulated by holiday shoppers.   
  
They weren’t exactly operating on the same wavelengths, to say the least.   
  
“You could at least try having a conversation with him.” Shiro interrupted Keith’s train of thoughts, “I mean, he’s here almost every week. He seems like your type. What’s the worst that could happen?”  
  
Keith’s lips twisted to the side of his mouth, “I have a type?”  
  
“Yeah, tall, dark, and handsome.” Shiro shrugged with an upturned palm.   
  
“That’s everyone’s type, Shiro.” Keith stopped cleaning long enough to steal fries off Shiro’s plate.   
  
“Exactly.” Shiro took a bite from his cheeseburger, “Plus, a date could be good for you.”   
  
Keith gave a short, breathy laugh, “So now you’re my therapist?”   
  
Before the conversation could continue, they were interrupted by the chime of a bell that let Keith know an order was ready for him.   


Keith’s eye-roll let Shiro know the order was for Lance.   
  
The short walk to Lance’s booth felt like an eternity when Keith was engaged in mental warfare over his next move. Shiro had a point, he supposed. Sure, Lance flirted but he hadn’t done anything to suggest he was malicious. It couldn’t hurt to be friendly with him.   
  
The debate was made easier when Lance currently had his back pressed against the booth cushion, chin tilted upward to expose an adam’s apple that bobbed whenever he swallowed. His eyes were shut, presumably in thought. The unforgiving heatwave had him in a Sonic Youth tank top that showed off athletic arms and a bicep tattoo of a sea serpent that Keith couldn’t quite make out caught his eye.

 

There was no denying that he was good looking.   
  
As Keith approached the table, he inhaled sharply through his teeth and reminded himself to play it cool. He could be charismatic. Suave, even. He had this.   
  
“Uh, _Hey_ .”   
  
The epitome of eloquence.   
  
Lance’s eyes fluttered open with recognition and he focused an intense stare on Keith. He suddenly sat up and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table, as if he’d been caught sleeping in class.   
  
“Bacon cheeseburger and fries.” Keith recovered as he placed the plate down in front of Lance.   
  
With his hands now empty, he took to cracking his knuckles out of nervous habit, “Do you, um,” Keith glanced towards the mostly empty milkshake glass, “need anything else?”   
  
Lance cocked his brow like a gun and gave Keith a half-smirk, “Thanks.” He then slid his empty glass towards Keith at the question, “Can I get another, please.”   
  
Keith visibly deflated. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say but this certainly wasn’t it.   
  
When Keith didn’t vacate the premises in typical brooding fashion, Lance rested his cheek on his knuckles with a wolfish smirk, “Anything else?”   
  
Lance seemed to be enjoying the struggle and Keith tried not to bristle with embarrassment as he willed his tongue to cooperate with his brain.   
  
“I saw your swim competition last week,” Keith blurted out, “You’re pretty good.”   
  
He wasn’t convinced that admitting he had attended Lance’s sporting event was any less embarrassing than standing their wordlessly.   
  
Keith pressed on, “Pidge covers all the sporting events, so.”   
  
As smooth a save as any, he supposed.   
  
Lance smiled, “You went to that?” He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, “I didn’t see you there. You should’ve said ‘hi’ or something.”   
  
Keith rolled his shoulders in a shrug, as if that were an acceptable answer.   
  
He scrunched his nose and then added,”Maybe next time.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Well, uh, enjoy your meal. “   
  
If Lance had more to say, Keith didn’t wait around long enough to hear it as he grabbed the milkshake glass and retreated back to the safety of the kitchen. After wordlessly dropping off a new milkshake for Lance, Keith joined Shiro at the bar where he’d watched the whole exchange take place.   
  
“That was excruciating to watch.” Shiro barked out a laugh, earning Lance’s attention.   
  
“Shut the fuck up.” Keith quietly snapped back, spinning in the stool, “I said ‘hi’, didn’t I?”   
  
“Yeah, which was about the _only_ thing you said.” Shiro quipped.   
  
Keith didn’t hesitate to elbow his friend in the side, “Okay, sure, but at least there weren’t any milkshake casualties.” He tried to keep his voice low, hoping Lance couldn’t hear them despite Shiro’s unwillingness to play along.   
  
Shiro grunted at the elbowing only to return with a playful shove to the shoulder that sent Keith off balance. This led to a full blown “sibling” squabble that escalated from playful shoves to pinching and, eventually, Shiro putting Keith in a headlock to mess up his hair with an open palm.   
  
Not deaf, nor a stranger, to their childish antics, Allura made her presence known from the pick-up window, “Hey, no wrestling in the diner!” She glanced between the two with open exasperation, “I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that.”   
  
“He started it.” Shiro smirked as he released his hold on Keith’s neck and uprighted himself.   
  
Once released, Keith went straight to combing his hair back into place with his fingers, “Like hell I did.”   
  
Allura sighed and, from the back of the diner, Lance laughed.   
  
Keith rolled his eyes and was relieved when one of his tables was ready for their check.   
  
—   
Once the clock rolled over to one in the morning, the diner had thinned out to just Lance and a sleep-deprived family that had been driving home to California from Texas.   
  
Shiro had left by then and boredom was beginning to eat away at Keith as he busied himself by wiping down tables and refilling condiment containers.   
  
Lance was still busy typing away but his exhaustion seemed to slow him down as his yawns and stretches became more frequent.   
  
Keith cleared away his third milkshake and tilted his head, “Do you want some coffee instead? I can make a fresh pot, if you want.”   
  
“That would be,” Lance used the back of his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned, “nice.” He chuckled.   
  
“Wouldn’t it be easier to work at home?” Keith questioned as he collected the milkshake glass on a tray.   
  
“I like it here. Back home, my parents owned a place like this. I always did my homework there. I guess It makes me think of home. “ He then smirked with a wink, “Plus, it has a nice view.”   
  
Keith had a feeling the view Lance was talking about wasn’t just the mountain ridge or a starry sky.   
  
“Uh-huh.” Keith clicked his tongue as he walked away to start the coffee and attend to the family of four.   
  
When Keith returned moments later, he dropped off a cup of coffee and a handful of creamers.   
  
“You’re being nice to me tonight.” Lance observed, “What gives?”   
  
Keith didn’t have an answer, really.   
  
“Is _that_ what does it for you?” Keith tilted his head.   
  
Lance snorted out a laugh, “A little verbal humiliation goes along way but nah, not really.” As he spoke, he stirred a creamer into his coffee, “Mostly I’m a sucker for a pretty face and a deep, brooding personality.”   
  
“Poetic,” Keith crossed his now empty arms over his chest, “But don’t call me pretty.”   
  
“If I promise to never call you pretty again, will you finally go on that date with me?” Lance added another creamer and reached for a sugar packet.   
  
“Do you really wanna ask me that with a cup of scalding hot coffee in front of you?” Keith dared.   
  
Lance didn’t seem the least bit concerned by the threat, “C’mon, _cariño_ , give me a chance.”   
  
Keith narrowed his eyes at the Spanish, racking his brain for the misplaced four years of Spanish he had under his belt. In the end, it was probably better not to know.   
  
Keith stared Lance down with smoldering intensity, mauve eyes flicking over the Cuban’s face in search of a plausible excuse.   
  
He didn’t have one. Not really, at least.   
  
Maybe Shiro was right. Maybe he should just suck it up and give Lance a chance. He was persistent enough.   
  
Plus, if the date was a total bust, he doubted Lance would come sniffing around again.   
  
He bit the inside of his cheek and rolled his jaw. He then tossed his hands up in surrender.   
  
“Fine, okay.” He held up a pointed index finger,  “One date. _One_ .” He emphasized.   
  
While Lance processed the turn of events with a slack jaw, Keith removed his pen from his work apron, “Give me your hand.”   
  
“Wait, you’re actually serious?”   
  
Keith didn’t miss the boyish excitement in Lance’s voice but he ignored the question in favor of taking Lance’s offered hand in his own. He jotted down his number across the meaty part of his palm and then recapped the pen.   


**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas for a first date but I'd love to hear some of your ideas too!


End file.
